Pushing the limits – excerpt

Another excerpt from book 2 Trust Me to Own You

Punishments happen, there not always part of a D/s dynamic, but Jason is a disciplinarian……

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The journey back from Jason’s office was frosty in atmosphere and he appeared to remain in executive mode for the duration. Looking out the window, he seemed to be deep in thought and Gemma did not trouble him with questions.  Her skin was starting to go prickly, he had promised her another reprimand and from his current mood, it was not going to be a quick admonishment.

They entered the apartment and she waited in the great room for his instructions.  Jason deposited his jacket on the chair in his office, placing his mobile there and the contents of his trouser pockets.  He waved her into his study.

“Go. Wait for me by the bed.  Use the bathroom first and you better be looking especially meek for me,” he said severely, his blue eyes had started to dress her down already.

“Sir,” she whispered.

A few minutes later she was naked, kneeling by the side of the bed, hands on her thighs and head bowed.  Jason was taking his time and when he appeared, he had a tray, the same one from last night. Whatever he had brought in was hidden under a tea towel.  He came and sat by her on the bed, his knees on either side of her inert figure.

“Words cannot begin to describe how I feel at this moment Gemma.” He was very close and she could feel his breath on her neck. “You yet again defied me. Failed to trust me. Baulked at me.  After Sunday night I thought you understood that this week you are mine without questions or hesitations.”

He watched as Gemma shrank further down at his feet.

“What makes me mad, is you behaved in this manner in front of another dominant.  A well-respected one within the community here.”

Gemma closed her stinging eyes tightly.

Oh crikey, this explains why Jason is so pissed at me.

Thinking through the events of the morning, she could see it all clearly.  The room was not only the artist’s atelier, it was his playroom.  She could picture the room; the dustsheets must have covered the apparatus and specialist furniture, as they were shaped fittingly.  The paintings and drawings were his subs and the woman with him must have been his, she never spoke out of turn and shrank back when he glared at her.

Shit! How could I have been so blind!

“Oh yes, I think the penny has dropped hasn’t it?  My disappointment in you is deep and I am hurt. Me, humiliated! You don’t know how close I came to giving you a hard spanking there and then in that studio. He would have let me and added the marks to your picture without comment.”

Jason watched as tears freely fell down her cheeks and on to her lap, small droplets on her trembling skin.  She sensed he required a clearing of the air and she hated it when the issue of punishment arose.  She had crossed lines before with Jason, over Angelica and other incidents in the past before they were married. It never was her intention to seek out discipline from him but sometimes she knew she made things worse by being uncooperative.

Jason was a proud man, almost vain to his critics and it brought to Gemma a burden of living up to his expectations. To defy him alone and in private happened from time to time. However, he clearly expected her submission to be worn loudly on her sleeve when in the presence of other dominants. She fumed at him and herself. At Jason for not informing her about the artist’s nature and her own reservations about being drawn naked and vulnerable. On the flight over, he had informed her that he did not plan to tell her about his scenes and it was a scene, she realised it in hindsight. The expectations were there, her obedience and the bondage were all part of his intentions.

Gemma was and never would be perfect. Some days she would find her submission and others she would fail to service him in the manner he expected.  It did not remove the sense of self-loathing from within her. She had felt such feelings before, when she was an adolescent, she had numerous negative encounters with her parents, especially her mother. She recalled how when she had failed to deliver her homework on time, her mother had refused to loan her a dress for a party Gemma wished to attend. Her mother’s posh frock fitted Gemma’s figure beautifully and she yearned to wear it.  Having been banned and with a bitter angry stomp of her foot, Gemma had gone to her mother’s wardrobe armed with a pair of scissors and cut a long slit up the front of the expensive dress.

Her hands had shook as she put the scissors away and then the guilt began to eat away at her. So quickly anger was replaced and as the day progressed, she waited for her mother’s wrath. It never came because her mother had not thought to check the contents of her wardrobe. By the next day, after a restless night’s sleep, Gemma clutched the ruined dress to her chest and sought out her mother. Tears streaming down her face, she confessed and held up the dress to her mother. Guilt and regret did not wash with Gemma’s mum and her words were drenched with ice cold repugnance at her daughter’s selfish actions.

Even after all these years, Gemma remained stunned at her behaviour and the sight of her mother’s disappointed face; she had quickly asked to be punished in the hope of soothing the ill feeling. Her mother’s sentence was to pay back the cost of the dress from Gemma’s allowance and a month of being grounded. Gemma accepted the penalties without comment and it took several days for mother and daughter to warm to each other again. Throughout her domestic imprisonment, Gemma had reflected on her attitude and swore to be mindful of her words and deeds. Naturally, it did not last long and within months she had committed another misdeed, though not of the same proportions.

Owning up and accepting responsibility for her behaviour had become a tool she learnt to apply quickly and with Jason she recognised it was necessary for his forgiveness. Gemma’s lack of willingness to confess to Angelica’s spanking had been a huge mistake on her part.

“Punish me,” she said with a wavering voice. “I ask that you treat me like your predecessor, the one who was with you here before, she was probably a better submissive than me.” Her head dropped low.

“If you were that sub, that cane you dread would be sweeping down on your backside now, twenty, thirty times or more.  You are not that girl and I don’t wish her back. I respect your limits and I respect your fears. I asked simply for obedience Gemma and your faith in me. I can see, with your trembling voice and hands, the tears, that you understand my disappointment. I hate to see you like this and for me to have to deal with it.  Let us clear the matter up with something different and may be it might lift your spirits too. A punishment can bring retribution, but it also can be therapeutic and positive. I don’t want to damage your beautiful flesh this week, from the outside you will be perfect, unadulterated.  I have something special planned for this occasion, a particular kind of forfeit that only our kind can appreciate as being positive.” Jason bent lower, his mouth against her ear, he spoke very quietly and with purposeful articulation.

“Figging, Gemma.” As he spoke, her adrenaline levels hit blast off.

TrustMe

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